We Need To Talk
by angel-death-dealer
Summary: "I'll be done soon," he told her. "Didn't want to go to bed without you-" "Clint, we need to talk," she cut him off.


Natasha entered the training area after punching in her access code. It was late, but she knew that Clint had already been there for several hours. She'd carried on working longer than usual, catching up on all her paperwork so that she could actually achieve one days downtime a week like she was entitled to. Clint was over at the range when she entered, naturally sending arrow after arrow flying into the centre of the targets from any angle. She came to stand behind him, not saying a word, but he spoke beside her.

"I'll be done soon," he told her. "Didn't want to go to bed without you-"

"Clint, we need to talk," she cut him off.

He shook his head lightly and picked up another arrow. "No, we don't."

"What happened earlier-"

"Went terribly wrong," he finished for her. "So we can just forget about it and pretend that it never happened." He sent another arrow flying right to the centre of its target.

"But it did happen," she reminded him.

"Not the way I wanted it to," he mumbled.

"Clint-"

He turned his head from the range and looked at her with such desperation that she could have mistaken him for a child. "Natasha, can we please not talk about this right now?" he begged.

She just stared back at him and he took his silence as a confirmation. Turning back to his bow he set it down on the counter, placing his arms on either side and staring down at it. He hung his head slightly, taking a deep breath. At this, she closed the gap between them, putting her hand on his arm and rubbed it softly, leaning her head on his hunched shoulder. Just the mere contact caused his shoulders to relax, if only a little, under her touch.

"I'd have said yes," she assured him quietly.

He put his hand over hers. "I know," he mumbled.

"You didn't have to ask for permission, Clint. There's no policy against it."

"It was important to me," he insisted.

"So you won't ask me without Fury's permission?" she asked.

Hearing the slightly disappointment in her tone, he sighed. "I knew he wasn't going to approve because of the dangers it could cause for us working together, how we'd become targets to be used to our enemies, but I thought if I could make him see how much I care about you…"

She placed her lips to his temple. "He's not the type to be won over by love."

"He doesn't think it'll work," he said flatly.

"I don't care what he thinks," Natasha told him firmly. He sighed and she combed her fingers through his hair. "We work, Clint, in and out of the field. That's not going to change."

At these words he moved so that he was facing her. Placing a hand on her cheek his bought his lips down to hers, however the soft skin never met. Instead, he hovered over her lips, close enough for her to see how much the day had destroyed him. "I do love you, Tasha," he told her.

"I know," she smiled, tilting her head slightly. "Will you really not ask me because of Fury?" she asked again.

He shrugged. "I've disobeyed him on a lot of orders over the years. If I add another to the list he's likely to have me shot."

"You think I'd let him shoot you so easily?" she asked.

"I dunno," he sighed. "I have made a mess of just about everything today."

She kissed him. "You haven't made a mess of anything," she assured him. "I love you all the same."

He frowned. "So you enjoyed watching me get my ego handed to me on a platter?"

"Is that so wrong of me?" she smirked.

He shook his head with a breathy laugh. "You have a sick sense of humour sometimes…"

"Clint…" she looked at him with a softening smile, her hand on the back of his neck. "I would have said yes," she assured him again.

"Really?" he mumbled, looking conflicted.

"Yes," she nodded. "So if you'd like to reconsider your decision to ask me, I'd like to say yes," she told him.

He raised an eyebrow. "You're asking me to ask you to marry me?"

She nodded again. "I suppose I am."

"Right now?"

"Yes."

He looked around them, frowning even more. "Seriously? The most important question of your life and you want me to ask you in the middle of the shooting range?"

"Would you prefer to do this in the rec room?" she offered instead.

He laughed at her as he took her hand, kneeling down to the ground. "Okay, here goes…Natasha Alianovna Romanoff-"

"How did you find out my middle name?" she asked suspiciously.

He gave her a warning look with a raised eyebrow, not answering her question. "If you interrupt me, I'm liable to change my mind again," he threatened, but the lightness in his tone told her otherwise.

"Okay, continue," she allowed with a smile.

"Right. Now…Natasha Alianovna Romanoff…will you do me the incredible honour of disobeying and annoying our boss and becoming my wife?"

She grinned. "I'd love nothing more…"


End file.
